


Transcendent

by iheartmonkeys19



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Cheating not jaeyong, Fluff, Historical, JaeYong - Freeform, M/M, historical!AU, jaehyun is a chaebol, pastlives, prolly some cliche, selfindulgence, some smut, taeyong is museum curator, wowihavenoselfcontrol, yesimreallystartinganewfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14453358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartmonkeys19/pseuds/iheartmonkeys19
Summary: Taeyong and Jaehyun come to realise that love transcends time, space, history and the social construct that has built them.





	1. Cotton

 

 

London, essentially, to Jaehyun was just another big city.

He was well acquainted with big cities; he had lived the majority of his life in a penthouse in Seoul, overlooking the cold Han River, overlooking the cold city.

HIs life hasn't changed much.

 

But big cities to him were always cold. He was well acquainted with London, working at Canary Wharf, house located near Noting Hill where all the well-off loved in pretty white houses closed off by pretty large doors. But it wasn't home.

 

And as he stepped off the plane into Heathrow's airport bustling terminal, he realised - that his mother is dead. And that there really is no home for him now. Not that penthouse in Seoul or his house in Notting Hill nor in the arms of the only woman he's ever loved. The thought hits him hard.

 

But he managed to drag himself to immigration and stand in line for an hour amongst the crowd of tourists to get his passport checked where he got the usual questions- What was his job? How long has he stayed in London? Where does he live?

 _Jesus_ , he thought, even with a work permit and a long-standing VISA and so many freaking stamps in his passport and the businessman vibe that literally radiates from his pores and his shiny cufflinks; you would think Jung Jaehyun would get pass border control much quicker after all these years. But he doesn't and he just bears with it because UK customs were always so rigorous on everyone who wasn't remotely Caucasian.

 

He took a cab ride into London and just zoned out for the most of it, making light conversation with the cabbie, he slipped back into his accent quickly, eloquently complaining about the British weather that never changes - abysmal drizzle and some other topics in the news he had missed when he was at Korea for the funeral.

 

It's already late afternoon when he arrived. His house is sparse as it is boring. He doesn't quite hate it as much as his family home back in Seoul but it doesn't feel quite lived in enough to be called his home. Irene tried her best to make his house his home because "It's going to be our home soon Jaehyun," she reminded him. There's a vase full of dead carnations that used to be soft yellow but now they're withered and brown and his housekeeper doesn't come until tomorrow so he can't help but just leave them there as to not offend Irene.

He would never want to offend Irene.

 

Not when she would bring him flowers from the Farmer's market in Chelsea when really it should be him bringing him flowers. Not when she dragged him out of his house every time the Tate Modern had a new exhibit because she knew he appreciated art. Not when she stayed the night and all that he can do is whisper apologies against her sweat-slicked skin as they fucked.

He wished he was better towards his fiancée. He wished they were better at this whole love, almost-married-but-not-yet kinda relationship. They try their best. They smile in front of their friends. They hold hands and kiss and say nice things about each other. But Irene was a beloved friend and a forced lover. And a whole tour de force of comfort and childhood security.

His house phone is blinking red with voice messages and he's not quite sure if he's ready to face the music but he pressed the button anyway and it's Irene because of course, it's Irene.

 

"You haven't been answering my calls and you left my messages on read." There is an ugly pause and she let out a sigh. "Look I know you’re grieving and I'm sorry I had to leave Seoul earlier. But you can't just keep quiet and pretend that you're not hurt Jae. Talk to me. Please." There's an edge of desperation in her voice but there's also annoyance- probably because he hasn't answered her messages. He knew that he could make it up to her tomorrow, buy her new earrings or something after lunch.

But he also knew he wasn't up for pretence so soon after reality had come crashing down on him in the form of a death of his loved one.

His only loved one.

 

Jaehyun doesn't ponder on his mother too long. Sadness has a way of staying with him in the rain, through the night, in the glare of lights of his office. He doesn't want to remember her so much partly because of the guilt he had for not loving her enough.

So he poured himself a glass of cognac, thick and heady as it slid down his throat and he retired to bed, hell-bent on sleep and not dreams.

 

_God knows he's given up on those._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Taeyong spent his mornings with Yuta and a cup of tea every day, in his always-cold office. It’s the only rhyme in his hectic life and he liked having Yuta’s company to calm his mornings. Maybe it’s because Nakamoto Yuta makes good conversation. Maybe it’s because he just makes really really good tea. 

 

Taeyong wouldn’t be surprised. He does the Ocha or tea ceremony for visitors of the museum sometimes. Today he made lemongrass tea in a blue China teapot and it perfumed his office, making it smell like a Thai spa. 

"That smells divine." He smiled over his crossword and sloshed his tea onto Yuta's fresh copy of 'The Times', Yuta grimaced. They have their respective mugs out; Yuta's mug emblazoned with UCL logo and Taeyong's Spongebob mug that he got from his roommate back in college.

"You seriously have to change your mug."

Taeyong frowned.

"Why?"

"I mean come on Taeyong. You hold a PhD. You're a professor. You've published two research papers."

"Actually three research papers."

"The point is Taeyong... you're not twelve. Honestly, this is why your flat-ass doesn't get laid."

"Shut up. At least I'm not drooling over Dr Kun's new assistant." Taeyong sipped his tea, unfazed about the jab at his 'flat-ass'.

"He has a name! It's Sicheng."

"You're so obvious. It's actually embarrassing watching you."

"Sicheng is cute. You're just sad and lonely that you can only fawn over Gerard Butler." Yuta groused.

"Gerard Butler is a fine man. His toenail is finer that your entire being."

"My god Taeyong. Can you hear how much you suck through your own suckiness?"

"I need better friends."

"What you need is to get laid." 

"Maybe I'll ask Sicheng if he wants to have lunch with me instead." Yuta purposefully sloshed his tea near Taeyong's crossword. The ink bloomed across the thin paper and Taeyong flushed in chagrin, glaring at the other.

"You're such an ass. The only reason we're still friends is cause you make nice tea." 

Yuta laughed, loudly, unrestrained, so very _him_ and he grinned as he helped Taeyong wipe down the spilt tea with kitchen towels, promising to make it up to him by treating him to lunch.

He left after clearing away the tea, going away to ready the utensils for his own demonstration later. There’s an hour till the museum opens its wide gates to the public. There’s an hour until the chaos began. He can imagine it already, the curators and the in resident artists and craftsmen and the streams of history students eager-eyed and enthusiastic. They would all be turning to him, asking him, demanding some nugget of wisdom or his opinion or his expertise in the field. Taeyong wished he had the same vigour to reply to such energy. Alas, he was getting old. And maybe it’s because he surrounded himself with old things that he quite literally feels himself ageing into this wise man in a very young body.

Maybe that’s why he refused to get rid of his stupid SpongeBob mug.

He contemplated the thought next to his windowsill. The lavender outside his window has bloomed into vibrant sprigs of purple in the coming of spring. How many springs had passed by now?

“My god I do need to get laid.” Taeyong lamented into the empty office.

Though he would never admit to Yuta that he was right for once.

 

 

 


	2. Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sorry, this is late. Life is stressful. Enjoy tho ;)

When his doorbell rings in the early morning he knows for sure that it's Irene because none of the other people in his life would have the guts to wake him up before 10 am. But there he is in his flannel pyjamas and Burberry house slippers, hair sleep-mussed, eyes bleary, opening the door as the petite tornado of a woman entered his house, immediately ranting about the shitty English weather. She carried a bouquet of newspaper-wrapped pink tulips and a box of freshly baked scones from the bakery Jaehyun liked.  
He wondered if he even has any jam to go with it.

"You still have the irises I bought two weeks ago." She stared at the flowers for a moment before taking the vase into the kitchen, ready to change the flowers without hesitation.  
"To remind me of you."  
"That's sweet darling but don't lie." She tutted, kissing his stubbled cheek. God, he needs to shave. But it's too early to do anything. 

He wished it there was more sun, he liked to see sunlight streaming in through the windows but it's rainy and windy and Jaehyun wanted to curl back into bed. Impulsively, he wrapped his hands around Irene's waist as she was cutting the stems in the kitchen, chest pressed against the chiffon of her work dress, seeking warmth where he may find it.  
"Come to bed with me."  
"Jaehyun I'm not in the mood."  
"No. Just sleep with me. Aren't you tired?" He asked softly, letting her tresses brush against his cheek.  
"No. I have work to do; emails to reply to. If you're so tired just go back to bed and I'll wake you up later."  
"But I want you to be there."  
"You're not a child Jaehyun." She bristled coldly and went back to cutting the stems. He felt fairly chastised and sighed deeply, choosing to return to his bedroom.  
His bed is cold.

By midday, he was up again, in comfortable clothes. Irene does no ask him why he doesn’t go to work. He’s called in sick but she doesn’t ask if he really is. She seems distracted by her work, she talks about something related to their wedding venue. Jaehyun paid attention for a moment before absentmindedly agreeing to her every whim. He doesn't really care if the wedding favours were personalised, or if they had white roses or pink roses. Jaehyun pointed out that roses were cliché but it falls on deaf ears. He occupied himself with a book of Pablo Neruda poetry.  
"How was the funeral?" Irene asked when they finally settled for lunch with just some standard sandwiches on his sofa. Irene had just finished arguing with someone over the phone. A pushy client, she would huff.  
“It was fine.”  
“I’m sorry I left earlier.” She apologized.  
“It’s fine.”  
“You’re not mad are you?” She asked cautiously.  
“No of course not.” He shook his head, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“How’s your father?”  
“Quiet. I think he’s fine though. He’s contemplative. Probably a bit lonely now that no ones with him in the house.”  
“We should visit him a lot then.” Irene nodded. Jaehyun doesn’t think he can have a coherent conversation with his father now that his mother has passed. She was always the glue to their disastrous relationship, as much as his father would insist that his son was his legacy.  
He just knows that they’ll become… estranged. But he hoped it wouldn’t get to him.  
“Hmm. Sure.”

Jaehyun wasn’t necessarily worried about his father but he was more on edge about how he would cope with his mother’s passing. He was a calm man, a very scary man, not unkind but not the most caring but maybe that just came with being a CEO and a dad at the same time.  
But he knew his father was like him too- bottled up his feelings, and too busy to treat people better and perhaps, a little lonely.  
He hadn’t cried when his wife passed. 

Jaehyun didn’t want to ask why.  
He’s not ready to mourn for them both.

“Jae. Jaehyun.” Irene’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.  
“Yes?”  
“You spaced out.”  
“I did? I’m sorry.”  
“No, I just asked if you’re okay... Is work getting to you? If there’s anything you want to talk abt if right here.” She placed a warm hand on his.  
“I know. Thank you.” She took up the space next to him, head in his shoulders, legs draped over his legs casually as she handed him a mug of hot chocolate. Easing up against his side, he pulled her close, relishing in the only warmth he’ll get.

He doesn’t think he can offend Irene.

 

Jaehyun gets a call two days later in his office.  
"Good evening Mr Jung. My name is Mr Taeil of Moon and Associates." A nice voice greeted him from the other line.  
"Oh... our family lawyer right?" He remembered looking over a few assets last year and the names popped out to him.  
"Yes, I'm your family lawyer Mr Jung."  
"Please, call me Jaehyun."  
"Firstly, my condolences Jaehyun. Your mother was a very kind, beautiful lady. I'm sorry for your loss."  
"Thank you for your... kind words." Jaehyun didn’t really know how to respond to all the grief. Heck, he didn’t even know how to deal with his own grief.

"About a year ago she asked for my help. She inherited quite a substantial collection of priceless antiques and artefacts."  
"Artefacts? From whom?" His voice betrayed his surprise.  
"Your grandfather was a renowned historian, and I'm sure you know but your mother graduated with an art history degree she was adamant on keeping the artefacts so she came to me for help in storing them and getting them insured."  
Jaehyun didn't know.

"Praytell what are these artefacts?"  
"A majority of them are ancient texts, scrolls, paintings, books and a few vases and hair accessories from various historical eras though most of them apparently dates back to the Joseon Dynasty."  
"I-I was not aware of this." He stuttered.  
"She asked me to send you them, in her will, as her only child you inherit these artefacts and there are several things she arranged to be sent to you directly within a week of her death."  
"This is... quite a lot to take in."  
"I apologise for being unable to tell you this face-to-face. I was not in Seoul the time your mother passed. And my schedule is a bit tight for me to fly all the way to London."  
"No-no it's okay. Don’t trouble yourself. It's fine. I'm just... surprised."

Theres a pause at the other end as if Mr Moon just realised that his client has kept everything a secret from her own son.  
"Jaehyun. You should know that she left you several letters as well. And her diary. She was in the process of translating several writings. She trusts you very much for her to have arranged all this."  
"I see. Is my father aware of this?"  
"No. Should I inform him?"  
"No... I'll tell him myself. Thank you Mr. Taeil."  
"The shipment will arrive in a week. I will email you the tracking number."  
"Yes. Thank you."

 

He never realised he never knew the woman he so dearly called his mother was such an enigma.  
The crates that arrived at his house the next week was too much to take in. There’s too much than that his London house can take so only a few pieces make it into his place before they’re diverted to a storage centre on the outskirts. 

 

“This is insane.” Jaehyun shook his head and dusted a fresh coat of sawdust off his dining table. He’s kept a few smaller ones in his living room out of pure glee. He’s torn between prying crates open with a crowbar like a kid on Christmas morning but he’s awfully afraid to damage something, and damage himself and he realises after five minutes that he doesn’t even have a crowbar.  
“I can’t believe your mother inherited all this... this is a lot even for your family’s standards.” Irene kept counting the crates  
“It is.” Jaehyun agreed. He doesn’t really know what to do with everything  
“It’s like you can open a museum with all of this.”  
“I don’t- I don’t even know what to do with this …” Jaehyun looked around.  
“I have a friend at the British Museum, works for the Asian department, I can probably set you up with a contact.”  
“Yes I’d like that. Thank you.” He nodded, kissing her hand softly.

Jaehyun admitted, though he lived in London, he wasn’t a fan of doing what tourists do, he avoided the tourist traps and the throngs of people in central London like the plague. Canary Wharf was where he worked and it felt familiar, cold but he knew it. He was acquainted with the sharp angles and the sharp suits and the starkness of things. Maybe it was a little pretentious but he didn’t want to be mugged in a weird corner of the subway or pickpocketed out of his silk ties.  
Okay maybe he was a bit pretentious.

But museums... museums he did like. He liked watching the children at the science museum, and the vases in the V&A and most of all he has a fondness for the Tate, especially the Rothko exhibit where the lighting was more subtle and the art more minimal. He appreciated not so much the art but the feelings and contemplation staring at a Rothko brought him... it was akin to meditation for him.  
Just staring into a void of colour and plugging in headphones to listen to Chet Baker and just... breathe. He liked that. That was his time. His space. Not even Irene knew how fond he was of that place. It was his little haven in the bustle of London.  
So Jaehyun was very pretentious.

But he’s only been to the London History Museum once, he doesn’t remember it much, he was there once for a benefit of some sort. It’s still quite early morning, with only the usual gaggle of tourists and school children on some field trip. Jaehyun wasn’t really paying attention to anything when Irene moved away from looking at a Ming dynasty vase to a Thai museum curator.  
“Ten?” The kisses cheeks like old friends. Jaehyun merely shook his hand.  
“Oh noona! You only get prettier with each passing day.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You must be Jaehyun. I’ve heard a lot about you from Johnny.”  
“Pray tell how do you know Johnny?” Jaehyun asked, taken aback.  
“I interned as his secretary for a bit before getting a job here.”  
“Oh...” Then he remembered how complicated and scandalous Johnny's relationships with all his secretaries were. And it dawned upon him that Ten might be different if Johnny even talked about him. “Oh.”  
Jaehyun's too caught up with the mental image of Ten and his best friend that he doesn't notice another person walking towards them.  
“This is the head of the Asian department here at the British Museum Professor Lee Taeyong.”  
Jaehyun almost lets out a gasp. Almost.  
Because he's never seen a man as ethereal as Lee Taeyong. He doesn't really know another word that fit him as right ethereal. His face was chiselled with high cheekbones, a jaw that could cut, dark ebony hair and the most beautiful expressive eyes.  
“It’s okay Ten I don’t really teach anymore” The gorgeous man chuckled and shook Irene’s hand.  
“Mr Lee then.” Jaehyun shook his hand too, suddenly acutely aware of quiet he had become.  
“I've only turned 32 this year, I'm still pretending that I'm 25 though so just call me Taeyong. I'm no one special after all.” He smiled warmly. Jaehyun would beg to differ.  
“You don't look a day past 21 so I wouldn't worry if I were you," Jaehyun replied wryly.  
"Pleasure to meet you. I’m Irene and this is my fiancé Jung Jaehyun.”  
“Ah yes. I’ve heard you’ve recently inherited an interesting collection. Ten has so generously set up a few samples for us... I was sorely tempted to go through the crates but I thought it would be more gracious to wait for the benefactors.”  
“Oh no. Don’t worry we’re quite curious too.” Irene answered.  
“Shall we? My office is right this way.” Taeyong led them into a cozy private office with tall ceilings and bookshelves looming over a spacious mahogany desk. There were large french windows with spruces of lavender and thyme in little planters outside the window sill. Taeyong's office had maps spread out on the walls and a large globe poised next to his desk. Behind his door was what seemed to be a recreation of a tapestry with lithe figures that were suspended in battle. He can read only a few words his basic mandarin. He's squinting when Taeyong noticed him.  
"The artist who created that was a student of mine. He was so interested by the original that he made it the main theme of his final year textiles project. Good kid. I helped him out with the hanja."  
"It's beautiful. What does it mean? The script?"  
"I want you to be everything that's you, deep at the centre of your being. Confucius." Though Jaehyun thinks it's just fate's poetic irony but it feels like Taeyong is talking to him. And he feels flustered by being the sole attention of Taeyong's gaze.  
"That's very... eloquent." Jaehyun's lost his words. Not that he had many, to begin with.

"I took the liberty to at least get the general gist of what I'm dealing with so I could enlighten you both. I haven't done a thorough investigation into the contents of your inheritance Mr Jung-"  
"Jaehyun, please. I'm 3 years younger than you."  
"R-right." God, did Taeyong just stutter? He takes out silk gloves from a drawer in his table and carefully unravelled an envelope of red silk before unfolding a piece of delicate paper, so thin it should be disintegrating into the air. “These are... these are letters between lovers. But if you look at this one, it’s stamped with a kings seal.” He pointed to a red stamp at the end of the last words. “And the silk it’s wrapped in, its red and gold, indicative of the senders wealth and nobility.”

“Can you translate it?” Irene asked.  
“Not all of it. Not immediately. It will take me some time.”  
“Who is it from?”  
“It’s signed King Wangjung.”  
“And the other one?”  
“I don’t know... the letters are signed only with ‘your loyal knight’. Probably to protect the sender's identity.”  
“It’s not his consort?”  
“No. I was curious about that too and checked any examples of correspondence between the King and his Queen consort. They did write letters but they were all formal. These are love letters. From his words... ‘dearest’, ‘dear beloved’, ‘night poet’, ‘my heart’, they all indicated that King Wangjung had a lover that history never knew of.”  
“His concubine then?”  
“He didn’t take any concubines. Hated the idea of them. Only had several due to tradition but the accounts said he allowed them to marry other men.”  
“That’s... progressive.” Jaehyun supplied.  
“That might not be the only progressive thing about him.”  
“He writes in this letter that he pines for his knight. The word knight and the suffixes would suggest that his lover was male.”  
“He was gay?”  
“Yes... no... maybe...Or at least he was fluid about his opinion of gender. Pedastry was a common practice during the era and other kings too notably Gongmin of Goryeo practised it... but I’m not quite sure if this was the case ... I’d have to pull out more research on Wangjung.”  
“Wangjung?”  
“ King Wangjung, 11th King of the Joseon Dynasty. I believe this is his royal seal. And the dates would indicate his reign.”  
“You can tell that from looking at the seal?”  
“Yes, if you can see carefully there’s a Camellia in the centre of his seal. It was his favourite flower. Not much is known about him because quite a few records were destroyed as the Mongols attacked quite often.”  
“What is known about him?”  
“He was a just ruler. He established more rules towards sanitation and water. He had a soft spot for children and took many under his care after his Queen gave birth to a son. Though there was a rumour that he had refused his bed with anyone else after his son was born.”  
“Huh.”  
“There was an uprising during the early stages of his reign, a coup set up by jealous concubines of his father who were vying for their son to be heir apparent. They say he was quite young as well when he first became King. But most of them are.”  
“You mentioned how this was all unknown. That he had a lover?” Jaehyun asked, surprised his mother had kept and preserved some whole historical secret.  
“Yes.”

 

“I saw the way you looked at him.” Ten nudged him as he sat down opposite him in the breakroom. They had bought ready meals from Sainsbury’s and heated them up in the pantry microwave. Frankly, he knew it wasn’t the paradigm of healthiness but the cannelloni was delicious.  
“What? Who?” Taeyong sputtered, almost burning his tongue on the hot cheese and pasta.  
“Jung Jaehyun. He’s so very your type. Young businessmen in expensive suits. Debonair. Kinda reclusive. The way... you were so flustered.”  
“What way?”  
“Come on Taeyong I’ve been to too many college parties and bars with you to know how you look at someone when you’re into them. And you’re so obviously thirsting over Jung Jaehyun.” Ten pointed out, before sneaking a spoonful of Taeyong’s cannelloni. Taeyong gave him the stink eye but didn’t say anything.  
“So what if I am? He’s handsome. He’s nice to look at. It doesn’t matter anyway, he’s engaged.”  
“Engaged not married.”  
“Ten!” Taeyong hit his arm.  
“I’m kidding! For real though, if he wasn’t engaged, you would be all over him.”  
“Shut up. It doesn’t matter because he is engaged and my relationship with him will remain strictly professional.” He insisted but he can’t help but wonder about Jaehyun’s own lingering stare on his face.


	3. Blow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am stressed. Sorry if this kinda sucks.

Taeyong had three missed calls from the head curator, about a dozen unread emails from student's applying for the museum’s internship programme he needs to read, and a professor from SOAS nagging him about his research papers. His desk was a mess - one of the Wangjung letters cradled softly on velvet, a map of the Joseon Dynasty spread out, held in place by a plethora of paperweights; a human skull, a thick book on basic pinyin, a mini sphinx Yuta got him from Cairo and a black swallowtail butterfly suspended in amber. His hands are ink smudged, so is his white shirt, sometimes he wonders why he even still wears white when he's always such a klutz. But all black feels too funeral-like and god knows he's surrounded by too many dead things.

The letters are enlightening, poetic, delicately crafted, some might also say they're the most romantic love letter's ever written. They're also a pain in the ass to translate. He ’s gone through three letters already, if not slightly manically, with Kun. He really needs an aspirin at this point but it's kinda addictive, like sinking his teeth into a new book, he masochistically enjoys the exhaustion that comes from working hard on a new project. So maybe he was slightly attached to his job...

There was a knock on his door and Ten peeped in, a grin on his face. Taeyong's alarm goes off in his head because Ten's grin is enough to tell him that something is up. He's not so sure he wants to know why.

“Mr Jung is here to see you.”  
“What? Who?”  
“Jung Jaehyun.”  
"Oh... That Jung Jaehyun?" HIs eyes widened slightly  
"Yup."

“Umm okay... did he tell you why? I wasn’t expecting him.”  
“No... should I tell him you’re busy?” Ten suggested but he shook his head.  
“No! No that’s inappropriate. I’ll see him. God, I look like a mess though right?”  
“Puh-lease Lee Taeyong have you seen your face? You could look worse sweetcheeks.”  
"Okay, fine let him in."

Ten came back a minute later with Jung Jaehyun in tow, his own white dress shirt wrinkled after a hard day's work, hair slightly tousled from commuting in the humid underground, a smile still plastered across his face. He’s still ridiculously handsome and good looking. Taeyong can't relate, he's already too tired to give him the proper professional front.

"Hello."  
"I would shake your hand but mine are ink-stained, he flashed his smudgy hands and gave the other man a wry smile. Jaehyun chuckled, then shook his head.  
"That's okay. I'm sorry for barging in here without informing beforehand."  
"No... It's fine I wasn't busy."  
"That's not what Ten said." He tilted his head in question.  
"Yes... well Ten likes to exaggerate. I'm just... having a lot on my plate at the moment."  
"I chanced upon something that might be helpful for you."  
"Please." Taeyong gestured to the seat across him.

Jaehyun sat and produced a small notebook from his leather satchel, there were wildflowers pressed onto the cover and it smelled distinctly of an old library.

"This is my mother's diary. I had it sent over from Korea. I believe she kept her notes in here too about the letters. I thought it might help you in the translating process." He placed it on top of the map.  
"That's very thoughtful of you but I don't know how I feel about snooping into a lady's privy, even with her permission. It's very generous of her to-"

“Can I be honest with you Taeyong?” Jaehyun suddenly cut him and his eyes are trained on him, there's a change in the air, if Taeyong really knew Jaehyun, he would say that he looked a bit crestfallen. But Taeyong did not so he didn't want to guess.

“I assume you’ve always been Jaehyun.” He replied calmly. It felt weird calling him by his name. But he doesn’t hate it. How lovely the other’s name is rolling off his own tongue.  
“You know how this is my mother’s collection right?”  
“Yes.”  
“She passed away. Recently I mean. About two weeks ago.” Jaehyun does not waiver but his eyes turn glassy and a sad smile graces his lips. There is a pause as Taeyong let the words sink in.

Oh.

“My condolences. I’m sorry I didn’t know how personal this was to you. I was out of line speaking like that.”  
“No, you don’t have to apologise. It’s just that...”  
“She never told me. About this; all the scripts and history and her life. It just felt a bit hurt when I found out because I’m her son. I’m her only child. I’ve always loved her more than anyone. And I felt really jilted that she chose to hide this from me.” Maybe Jaehyun was a lot more hurt than he would like to admit.

“Do you think she intentionally hid this from you?” Taeyong broached.  
“Part of me feels like she was hiding herself, her life, her family. My family. I don’t know if it estrangement or if she just... didn’t want me to know.”  
“So that’s why you’re so eager? To embark on some spiritual self-discovery journey?”  
“Well I wouldn’t put it like that but... yes.” Jaehyun nodded. He wanted to know why. He felt shunned by his dead mother. He didn't think he could sleep peacefully feeling like he didn't know her or maybe he didn't love her enough.

“Can I be honest too?” Taeyong asked, hands poised elegantly on his chin  
“Sure.”  
“She wouldn’t have left you all of this if she didn’t want you to know. Maybe she wasn’t ready to talk about it when she was alive. Maybe she didn’t have the courage to. Sometimes you’ll find that the hardest things for us to face are ourselves and the people whom we love.”  
“You’re very wise.”  
“I don't think I am but thank you.” Taeyong laughed. And Jaehyun watched him.

“I haven’t told anyone about this. It feels a bit burdening. Like telling the people around me that they don’t know me enough. Like I don’t know myself enough.” He said, voice low, insecurity high. It felt weird, but he trusted Taeyong. The man had such a magnetic personality, so very easy to trust. Jaehyun would divulge everything if it weren’t for the fact that everything was complicated.

“Sometimes it’s like that. Things we can tell to strangers... and not to the people who know us.”  
“You’re not a stranger,” Jaehyun interjected.  
“I hope not for long.” Taeyong smiled, not knowing what it did to the other.

"If it's not a bother, I'd like to help you in this. I know I’d be a distraction and I’m not really well versed in all... this. But I’m good with my hands and I’m not that egocentric that I can’t take orders and I know really really basic mandarin though my Korean isn’t bad either-“  
“Yes.”  
“Yes?”  
“Yes, you can help. I mean Kun and Sicheng help me too but I could always use the extra hand and you seem like... like this matters to you. I understand why you’d want to take part in the process.”

“It does matter. To me. She matters to me.”  
“I can see that.”  
“Thank you.”  
“I should be thanking you.”  
“No. This feels personal. Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate that you were willing to share all of this with me. That you’re willing to share your family history and your grievances. ”

“I’m sorry you’ll be seeing more of me from now on.” Jaehyun smiled sheepishly. Taeyong could only lie.  
“I look forward to working with you.”

Taeyong really didn’t. Because he didn’t know how the hell he could stop himself from liking Jung Jaehyun more and more.

 

* * *

 

 

Hanseong, 1738.

Lady Hwayeon held a silk purse in one hand and her son’s hand in the other. She led him calmly away from the Moonlight Pagoda despite her heart hammering against her ribcage. The Little Prince Yoonoh, just shy of his 8th birthday was quiet, following his mother despite her too tight grip on his wrist. He would complain but he knew she was panicking and afraid. He was too admittedly.

She lead him away from the more royal quarters, moving swiftly towards the gates where a lady waited, a shawl covering her head, flanked by two soldiers. Yoonoh knew the lady well, she was beautiful, always dressed in some frothy concoction of a hanbok, her skin was paler than the moon, her smile gentle. She was his mother's confidante, the wife of the General, commander of the imperial army.

“Your Highness”, she curtsied respectfully but Lady Hwayeon threw her arms around the other without care of manners, she was afraid.  
“My dear friend, thank you for this. I cannot entrust my greatest treasure to anyone except you.”  
“I am sorry my dear queen. I have no power nor influence to appeal to follow you to the Cold Palace.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. You need to stay here with your family and with my son. I-I trust he will be in good hands. I’m sorry for burdening you with this. He means the world to me. Thank you for doing this.”  
“I’ll care for Prince Yoonoh as if he were my own son.”  
“Thank you.”

“How long will you be gone for?”  
“I do not know dearest.” She smiles sadly, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Cradling his face in the cusp of her hand, she kisses his cheeks.  
“Listen to me Yoonoh, you must be careful in court. Listen to Lady Haein. She will take care of your from now on. You’ll be a member of her household, do not trouble her. Study with your tutors hard, listen to them too. Be careful in court. Do not speak of things to other courtiers or the ministers. Do not... let yourself be provoked by the concubines or the court ladies. What they speak of is nothing but gossip. And do not hold a grudge against your father Yoonoh.”  
“Even now you still defend him.”  
“The King has been merciful to banish me... it could’ve been much worst I could’ve been-been... let’s not talk about it.”

Executed. His mother would’ve been executed.

“How is this mercy? That he took a whore’s words against his own queen’s?”

“Shhhh. If somebody hears you-“ She shushed him.  
“Will he banish me too?”  
“Yoonoh he is still your father. He is still the King of Joseon. He has his reasons. I could be dead. He like loves you. Please believe me. Do not try to avenge me in any way. You are still the crown prince. You are still his firstborn.”  
“And what of you?”  
“When will I see you?”

Will I see you?

“Every child has to part with their mother eventually.”  
“But you’re being ripped away from me.”  
“I wish I could protect you. Wish your pain away. But know that I love you. And I always will. I’m sorry Yoonoh.” She apologised one last time, engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug, uncaring that the silk of her hanbok was dirtied by the grass. His mother kissed him one last time and pressed the silk purse into his hands before departing. Yoonoh stared after until her figure disappeared. He didn’t want to cry when his mother had been so strong. So he willed himself not to. Because he had to be strong for the both of them.

 

Lady Haein was composed despite the guards flanking her bristly, instead, she wafted like a cloud, her steps light. She breezed through the winding alleyways of the promenades outside the palace walls. General Lee was well known to be a favourite of the King after winning battle after battle. For such a highly decorated officer though, he was very reclusive, only appearing at court when he was summoned and being away most of the time to keep things under control. Yoonoh has only met him once, whilst having tea with his father, the General had paid him a visit bringing news from the border. Yoonoh has been hushed out of the room but he had seen the General, he was a tall built man, with kind eyes and a knowing grin. He always thought the man could have all the mistresses he wanted, any lady would offer themselves to him, whether it be a servant, giseang or noble. But he understood why the General remained loyal to his wife.

 

They approached a big house with high walls and red scalloped roofs, a few guards patrolled outside, greeting both Prince Yoonoh and Lady Haein. The house was surrounded by ginkgo and maple trees, and Lady Haein led him to the main salon, where maids were already there setting up what looked like a late night supper.

“I thought you might be tired and peckish, so I prepared some cakes and warm tea before you retire to bed Yoonoh.” She poured him a cup of tea and then there was a knock on the door.

“Come in Taeyong.”

A boy, just about his age came in, features sharp, hair loose around his face, and Yoonoh’s surprised he’s never seen him before. He couldn’t be that much older than him at least and he sat quietly down next to his mother.

“Yoonoh, this is my son Taeyong. He’s one year older than you.”  
“Does that mean I have to call him hyungnim?”  
“Only if you want to.” Lady Haein smiled, pouring another cup for her son and serving Yoonoh a flower-shaped cake.  
“But I’m older,” Taeyong muttered, eyes shifting quizzically to the prince.  
“Taeyong don’t make him uncomfortable.” His mother chided.

“You will live here with us, but the King is insistent that you still study in the with your tutors. The guards will accompany you to and fro every day for your study sessions.”  
“I’m sorry I’m intruding.”Yoonoh apologised automatically.  
“You’re a welcomed guest and soon you’ll be like family. Right Taeyong?” Taeyong nodded, taking a bite of the cake.

“I’m afraid your room is still being prepared so you’ll have to sleep with Taeyong for a night.”  
“That’s fine... Lady Haein.” He still struggled with the sudden change but he knew that Lady Haein had no obligation to take him under her wing. Especially not with everyone in court wanting him dead.  
“You may call me Aunt Haein if it would make you more comfortable... I know I could never replace your mother Yoonoh. But I have to try and make sure you feel at home with us. Our little family.” She reaches out and softly patted his hand.  
“The eunuchs have sent your bedclothes in advance. The maids will help you dress. I’ll send in Taeyong later so that you can change comfortably.”  
“Thank you.” Yoonoh nodded, leaving first.

 

He heard the hushed voices outside his room. He knew that Taeyong would be uncomfortable with him here.

“I don’t know how to speak to him. He’s younger but he’s higher in position. Mother, I’m confused.” Taeyong whined.  
“Speak to him like you would a brother, he’s very lonely Taeyong, he needs someone like you around him.”  
“Someone like me?”  
“Someone caring and lovely and strong who will support him. And you’re my son, I know you are all those things and more. He is to be akin to my son too now for I have promised Lady Hwayeon that he shall be treated thus.” Lady Haein brushed her son’s hair properly before kissing him on the cheek.  
“Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight mother.”

Taeyong loitered about before coming into the room pensively, he’s on edge, a bit unsure how to approach the prince. Yoonoh is already tucked under his covers, waiting for the other boy. He’s staring at the gilded wooden beams of the room, there are morning glories etched in gold, the house is a gift from his own father, the benevolent King to General Lee when he won the battle of Anju. The house is beautiful.

Another quilt is spread up for him about two set away from Yoonoh. He hesitated before blowing out the gaslights and candles and waddling into his covers.

“I’m sorry Prince Yoonoh. I’m not quite used to sharing a room with royalty.” He whispered into the night.  
“I’m not going to bite.” Yoonoh insisted.

Taeyong paused, before shifting his sheets and his body closer to the boy until Yoonoh could smell his scent of earthy musk and jasmines. He curled his fingers against Yoonoh’s, smiling fondly at the younger boy.

“You look like you could use a friend,” Taeyong explained the planes of his face became visible in the moonlight. Yoonoh could almost make out his grin.  
“Yes. You’re right. I think I lack that. Are you willing then Lee Taeyong? To be my friend?”  
“Only if you call me Hyungnim.”

Yoonoh smiled in the darkness.


	4. Blouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I felt so uninspired to write this chapter and I never wanna post anything half-assed. I finally finished pre-U but I'm working now. However, I do have more free time than before. Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos. I always read them even though sometimes I don't reply.

 

Jaehyun has never been to a gay club before, though he should’ve been prepared for some fair amount of ogling and being ogled. He wouldn’t call himself a true heterosexual despite the fact he was engaged to a woman and yes though he had had sex with Irene, she wasn’t his type. He’s pretty open the concept of liking someone regardless of their sex though he’s only experimented so much to decide.

Johnny leads him into an underground basement, dingy ceilings that reverberate with the heavy bass, sweaty bodies pressed against one another, neon lights that glow beautifully. There is a certain elegance in the unnatural colours that soak human skin. There is music playing, there are people dancing. He drags Jaehyun to the bar, orders two shots for them and they clink their shot glasses before downing everything on one go. His mind buzzed with excitement, Johnny grinned at him knowingly.

 

“You know you shouldn’t get too drunk. You’re the designated fixer upper if I get too drunk with my date.”

“I still don’t get how you manage to convince me to come along with you when we both know you’re going to fuck your secretary tonight.”

“Ex-secretary.” Johnny corrects, Jaehyun merely rolled his eyes.

“Like that makes a difference.”

“For real Jaehyun mate, you’ve been pretty uptight these days. I lament that Irene has finally turned you into an adult.”

“We are adults Johnny.”

“That’s what they want you to think Jaehyun.” Johnny grinned.

“You need this. You need to loosen up. I know works been giving you a lot of shit and Irene has been giving you loads of shit and...”

He doesn’t end the sentence. But he knows what Johnny would say.

 

_You’ve been so depressed and angsty since your mother passed so you should get shitfaced drunk and relax for a night._

 

 

 

Before he could reply he catches someone eyes on the other side of the bar, staring at him, margarita in hand, red jacket and red see-through lace and perfectly styled hair, looking like he just stepped off the runway- was Lee Taeyong. His eyes were smudged with Kohl, skin visible, teasing.

_Oh wow._

 

Taeyong thanks the bartender when he gets his margarita and nodded to something Ten was saying enthusiastically about his date. Frankly, he doesn’t know why he’s here but the prospect of alcohol and dancing was enough to lure him out when he’s been so stressed. He’s sipping his drink and laughing at Ten when he feels the burn of someone’s glare. He surveys the crowd around him and he notices a familiar figure. He’s staring back and it takes him a moment to realise that it really is Jung Jaehyun. And then his face flushes red, Taeyong is mortified.

 

“Oh my god.” He said aloud, distracting Ten from his drink.

“What is it?”

It’s only a moment, he blinked, he swears and Jung Jaehyun is sauntering towards him. He’s wearing a Helmut Lang t-shirt, and tight tight black jeans and he looks so good Taeyong almost drools.

 

“Hey. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Jaehyun smiled, Taeyong visibly gulped.

“Um, h-hi.” He stuttered.

 

“Hey, babe.” Ten opened his arms for Johnny to kiss him. And he does.

“Hey yourself.” He smiled. Taeyong and Jaehyun watch unamused but still surprised.

 

“Ten was the ex-secretary?”

“I’m more surprised than you are. Damn Ten.” Jaehyun whistled.

 

“This is Taeyong. He’s my friend.” Ten introduced Johnny to Taeyong.

“Nice to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

 

“This is Jae. But I guess Y'all already know each other.”

“We’re acquaintances. He’s the museum expert I work with.”

“Ahhh that makes sense.” Johnny nodded before wrapped his hands around Ten’s waist. “If you’ll excuse us I believe the dance floor is calling.” He winked to Jaehyun before allowing himself to be pulled into the throng of people by Ten.

 

 

Jaehyun turned back to the bar and gestured to the bartender, “A scotch on the rocks.” Then he felt Taeyong fidget nervously next to him, “Make that two.”

 

“You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

“I want to... Hyung. I can call you Hyung right?” He smiled and god Taeyong can’t breathe because he just realised Jaehyun has dimples when he smiles widely.

“If you want to.” He shrugged fiddling with his lacy sleeve. “I’m sorry.” He blurted

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow and there was a pause when the bartender served them their drinks.

“Why are you apologising?” Jaehyun asked as he took a long sip of his alcohol.

“I’m just really embarrassed. If I knew I would’ve dressed more-“

“More?”

“More modestly.” Taeyong squeaked, he felt the heat crawling up his neck as Jaehyun turned to look at him.

“You look good. Really good. I like the whole androgynous heathen vibes. I like it. And you shouldn’t worry about looking less professional. You have a right to a life outside of the museum too. I won’t judge.” Jaehyun assured him.

Taeyong sighed in relief, finally taking a sip of his scotch, the ice has melted too much but he still appreciated it.

 

“I get worried. About bumping into anyone I know when I’m at these places. Especially my students. God.” Taeyong groaned. “I’m not as millennials would say, a “confident gay.””

“Then what are you?” Jaehyun was amused.

“Ten says I’m a panicked one.”

Jaehyun laughed loudly.

 

“How’s your alcohol tolerance?” Jaehyun asked him whilst swirling his cup.

“Bad.”

“How bad?”

“Like two glasses of wine and I’m tipsy bad.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have bought you a drink then.” Jaehyun teased him.

“No, I needed this.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Taeyong asked, confused.

 

Jaehyun ordered two daiquiris and Taeyong frowned, he was going to die of alcohol poisoning at this rate. He was already slightly woozy and he knew alcohol brought out the “hoe” in him as Ten would say.

“When you’re drunk I’ll be sober and when I’ll be drunk you would’ve sobered out. It’s foolproof.” Jaehyun smiled, nodding at himself at his grand plans.

 

“You’re serious?” He laughed when Jaehyun finished his daiquiri and ordered two more shots. Taeyong hasn’t even finished his last drink.

“Dead serious Hyung.”

 

“How did Johnny convince you to come to a gay bar?”

“He knows I’ve been stressed and mopey recently, I didn’t really need to be convinced to come for a night of ... hedonistic escapism.”

“That’s why you’re here? Hedonistic escapism?”  He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Then you? Why are you here Hyung?”

“Where else would I be able to wear this? The museum?” He said sarcastically. “But yeah alcohol and dancing. God, I use to love dancing. I use to dance but I got older and busier now I just dance for fun at clubs. And Ten thinks I need to get laid. He says my flat-ass needs some excitement.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, Taeyong’s too shy of a person to blurt out shit like that to someone he barely knows.

 Jaehyun could see it, Taeyong had a lithe body, almost like a sprite, he was beautiful too. Jaehyun could imagine Taeyong dancing. How graceful his dance lines would be, his hips curving, his back arching, how delicate his fingers would move. It sends a frisson up Jaehyun’s spine, imagining it. But perhaps his imagination wasn’t enough.

“You dance?”

“I use to.”

“Dance with me.”

“W-What?” Taeyong sputtered, almost spitting out his drink.

It's impulsive. Jaehyun knows that.

“Isn’t that your objective tonight? To have some fun?”

“Jaehyun... I don’t think that’s appropriate.” He coughed, wiping his mouth with the edge of his sleeve.

“It’s okay Hyung. I won’t judge.” He takes a shot and grinned, offering the other one to Taeyong. He knows he should refuse, he should say decline and call himself a cab and go home. And never think about Jaehyun that way ever again.

But Jaehyun was a painfully attractive man, who for some reason actually paid him attention, and he was beautiful and kind and polite but still very flirty and fun and Taeyong really really wanted to grind on him.  And he's smiling at him with the eyes of a fox who just found new prey. His inner hoe was screaming to just-

“I guess I should have fun tonight...”

“Maybe you’ll even get somebody’s attention.”

 

_What if I only want your attention?_

 

Taeyong finally takes the shot glass and downs it in one go too trying to emulate Jaehyun who still looked perfectly fine when Taeyong knew he’s going to die from alcohol poisoning in a few seconds. He visibly recoils and Jaehyun chuckled, “cute.”

 

The alcohol makes Taeyong feel less tense. Makes him more adventurous and carefree. So he pulls Jaehyun to the dance floor without a care. Maybe for a night, he could pretend that Jaehyun was some stranger he met at the club looking to impress.

Jaehyun is even more beautiful under the strobe lights, his face alighted in the streams of colour, eyes smouldering, demeanour changing into something Taeyong has never seen. He’s uninterrupted, passionate and his hands linger around Taeyong’s waist unsurely.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that running through his veins that makes him more forward and brave that he could ever be in real life but God Taeyong looked so ethereal at that moment, dancer hips swaying in the dark to the beat. Jaehyun would tell him how insanely beautiful he looked if only the music was less loud.

At one point Taeyong’s ass is pressed against Jaehyun’s front and Jaehyun struggled, immensely so to control his hormones. Taeyong is a heathen, so beautiful and devilish and all smirks under the influence of alcohol. If it wasn’t for the fact that there was a voice in his head reminding him that this was all momentary, he would’ve bent Taeyong over and fucked him until he saw stars burst behind his eyelids.

They’ve danced, pressed so closely that their breaths intermingled. And at the bar Taeyong is now on his 4th shot, he’s almost wasted but he stares at Jaehyun with the most unadulterated look and he can’t help himself from feeling such euphoria.

And he’s laughing, head carelessly thrown back, neck deliciously exposed until he freezes when he sees something beyond Jaehyun’s shoulder.

 

“What’s wrong?” He turned around meeting someone else staring intently at them.

“Who’s that?” He turned to Taeyong who seem to have sobered up.

 

“Just someone.” Taeyong shrugged, not looking at him properly.

“Taeyong you can tell me. He’s staring daggers at you.”

“He was just some asshole from college. He asked me out a few times, I said yes, he got handsy when I said no, I ran away but he still... bothered me... like he can’t take the rejection.”

 

 

“Has he been bothering you still?”

“Yes. I mean occasionally I bump into him here or other clubs and it just... reminds me of that time.” He shivered and Jaehyun tugged him closer.

 

“Put your hand in mine.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” Taeyong does as he’s told. Jaehyun’s hand is warm and big and he knows he’s flushing pink from embarrassment and the alcohol.

 

“Oh fuck he’s coming over,” Taeyong whispered, panicking.  He's not ready for messy confrontations.

“Taeyong look at me.“ Jaehyun’s voice is stern, hard to ignore.

“Hm?” He turned to look at Jaehyun, getting caught in those magnetic eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

 

Jaehyun leaned in and he doesn’t react fast enough because Jaehyun is kissing him and he is kissing back and he doesn’t really come to grips with the fact that its Jaehyun who he’s locking lips with. It’s merely a moment but Taeyong remembers every second of Jaehyun’s soft lips upon his.

When Jaehyun pulls away Taeyong is still confused about what just happened.

He doesn’t see his creepy ex all night.

They don’t speak, Jaehyun buys him another drink and Taeyong gets full on drunk and can’t even walk straight in a few minutes. He accompanies him back home in a cab whilst Taeyong animatedly and drunkenly talks about the fall of Carthage. Jaehyun finds it cute but doesn’t respond to him except with the occasional nod and hum. He texted Johnny to assure him that he was going to take Taeyong home directly to his apartment in Battersea.

It takes forever because Taeyong is a dead drunk and Jaehyun has to drag him to the 5th floor and when he finally arrived at the door it takes Taeyong 7 times to finally punch in the correct key code and Jaehyun helps him get into bed because Taeyong almost falls asleep at his doorstep.

 He sighed heavily whilst he hauled the man into his bed, and tucked him in. Taeyong looked so beautiful when he slept, like an angel with his messy hair and flushed face. Jaehyun watched him for a moment, totally like a creep, admiring how beautiful the man was. He would kiss him again if he could. But he thinks, he knows, that the night is over.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Hanseong,  1738._

 

Prince Yoonoh sat at the balcony overlooking Taeyong training outside, he has a book open on his lap. Some war strategy book, but Yoonoh finds it silly. He should be doing what Taeyong was, training, being on the ground. How can he be expected to order on a whim and not understand the brunt it has for the soldiers?

Taeyong is trained by a swordsman by the name of Kai, he is a beautiful man despite the hardened life as a soldier, tanned, toned and very dangerous from years of training men in the army. He is less refined than the likes of the scholars and ministers Yoonoh always see in the palace. But he is no less a teacher, pointing out Taeyong’s weaknesses, correcting his mistakes, occasionally complimenting him or to evoke a reaction; sometimes egging him on.  Today is no exception as Taeyong’s seems to be aggressively defending his flanks.

They go back and forth on the gravel, engaged in a deadly dance. Yoonoh can’t take his eyes off their graceful calculated movements.

 "Oww." Taeyong groaned as he landed on his ass, sore from two hours of sparring with the head guard.

"You didn't defend your blind spot." Kai pointed out, but he smiled and offered his student a hand up.

"It's okay, you did well today. Is it possibly because you want to impress the young prince?"

"No." Taeyong huffed.

"He's been watching you this whole time. His Highness must be bored with his reading."

"Do you think he wants to join us?"

"Perhaps. It must be stuffy to be reading books indoors when the weather is nice.”

“He could join us,” Taeyong suggested in vain.

 “I don't think he has much of a choice Taeyong. If he so much as gets a scratch on him, the King would hang me by my eye sockets."

"What if he runs into trouble? Like real trouble.” Taeyong asked.

"Then you just have to train harder to make sure he doesn't."

"Why me?"

"Who else does he have?” Kai shrugged.

“People keep telling me that. He’s the Crown prince, he has many people at his beck and call.” Taeyong frowned. It made no sense to him. How could a prince have no one, when he had the king for a father, all the eunuchs and maids servicing his every need, all the scholars in the city fighting to teach him, all the girls in the kingdom ready vie for matrimony. It was ridiculous. He has everything.

“Being the crown prince is a very lonely job Taeyong. He barely has anyone to trust.”

Taeyong thought pensively, his mother had spoken about how Prince Yoonoh’s mother had been banished and that was truly dreadful. Taeyong would never admit it but he didn’t like the idea of his mother leaving him. Who would listen to his stupid attempts at poetry, or be regaled by his tales of adventure and who would kiss him goodnight? Or wipe his tears away from his cheeks? Perhaps Prince Yoonoh really was lonely.

“Hyungggg,” Taeyong whined when he landed on his ass for the hundredth time that session. “You shouldn’t be so harsh on me I’m only a kid.”

“You’re poised to be the next General of the imperial army. You’re not just a kid Lee Taeyong.” Kai reminded him.

“Father is gonna scold me for being so weak.”

“Aish, I’ll tell him how bratty you are.”

“Please slip in a compliment or two and I’ll finally agree to pass that love letter of yours to Lady Kim. Maybe I’ll even embellish it for you.” Taeyong teased him, winking at his hyung conspiratorially.

“How do you even know about that you brat!”

 

 “You were hesitating.”

“You don’t charge into love like you go into war.” Kai lamented.

“You’re not even charging at all.”

“I don’t take love advice from a kid.” Kai scoffed.

“Obviously, maybe you’d have gotten somewhere by now if you did.”

“Aish this brat.” Kai kicked his shin, not enough to bruise tho.

 

“Why don't you make a move?”

“You're like 5, you’re not supposed to ask me these things.”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters because I’m just a soldier.”

“A great one,” Taeyong assured him, and the tiniest of smiles graced his lips as he sighed.

“She’s a royal. She doesn’t deserve just some soldier who goes off to war every year. Besides I’m too lowly for her. No rank. No position. No power.”

“My father is a soldier. He married a minister’s daughter.” Taeyong pointed out.

“Your father’s a General and he worked hard to be there, your father... he was always in love with your mother. He won the war just so he could vie for her hand, she waited for him too.”

“Don’t worry Hyung, when I become General I’ll promote you so you’ll be able to propose to Minister Kim's daughter.”

“You won’t be General if you don’t pick up some slack and improve on your footwork.”

“Ah the tragedy, guess you’ll never get promoted then.” He lamented out loud, earning a glare from the elder.

“Yah, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing Hyung byeee.” Taeyong grinned, he raced towards the study room.

Yoonoh has been reading the same passage again and again and it's starting to tire him. He wondered how much longer Taeyong would take. He wanted to play with someone. The quite made his thoughts louder than they were. He didn't like it.  He slumped onto the floor, hands akimbo, a book on his face blocking the sunlight. There is a patter of feet, and the door slides open. Jaehyun doesn't rise as Taeyong walked up next to him.

"Yoonoh are you asleep?" He whispered.

"No," Jaehyun whispered back.

"Then why are we whispering?"

"I don't know," Jaehyun admitted, removing the book from his face.

 

“Are you done with your reading?” He asked, fiddling with Jaehyun's sleeve.

“Almost.”  Jaehyun sighed.

"Will you take long?" Taeyong whispered again.

 

“Why is there something you need?” Jaehyun countered.

“How good at you at evading guards?”

“Very good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I lie to you Hyung?”

Jaehyun regularly sneaked out of the palace, preferring the quiet of the nearby woods and fields where he could spend the time sketching the butterflies and insects or writing poetry. Sometimes he would swim in the nearby brook that was hidden away by willow trees. He was also an expert at sneaking into the kitchen and stealing the bean paste buns and the walnut pastries.  He's had many a scolding from his mother about wandering off like that but it can't be helped that he was a young curious boy.

“There’s a festival in town, mother would kill me for bringing you out without guards but that’s no fun,” Taeyong said all too quickly as if he might get caught for even suggesting the idea.

“We should go.” Jaehyun nodded, tossing his book away.

“We should.”

“We’ll get into trouble.”

“We will.” Taeyong mirrored his grin.

 

 

 


End file.
